


Young Einstein

by penlex



Series: telerevision [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU
Genre: ADHD Character, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Cartoon/Comics Oliver, Gen, Hemophiliac Character, Historian Stuff, LGBT Character, Not Canon Compliant, Time Detecting, Time Shenanigans, amputee character, will be OOC for Arrow fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-08 16:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12868575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penlex/pseuds/penlex
Summary: Nate discovers how wibbly and wobbly history can be while trying to write his thesis paper, experiences some timey wimey weirdness, and is gay for the Green Arrow.Scenes from an alternate Legends season 2.





	Young Einstein

**Author's Note:**

> Me and my subpar Googling capabilities couldn't find anyone specific to recast Nate with, so just imagine he's played here by a Jewish amputee version of whatshisname (no shade, I just don't feel like looking him up rn).
> 
> Oliver, however, is recast as Dolph Ziggler. Yes, the Colonel Sanders wrestler. Yes, *because* of the Colonel Sanders costume. (Again, no shade on Stephen Amell, I just don't know if he'd look that good with such a ridiculous hairdo+beard. Shade on Oliver Queen himself tho. But loving shade. A nice honey roast for my legally wedded husband.)
> 
> lmk if there are glaring continuity errors, i did not write these scenes in order

**Franklin County, 2016**

The windows are blocked out with printed off manuscript scanlations, letting in only oddly filtered sunlight from outside. One in particular is an illumination of a man in armor kneeling to be knighted, a red cape cascading from his strong shoulders and a visibly earnest look on his face, squished down in an uncomfortable looking position in the square borders of the illustration - probably to depict the man being taller than his compatriots of the time period.

Nate doesn't know what the hell he thinks he's doing. None of this has anything to do with anything at all in his thesis work anymore, which he will have to defend in like three months. He doesn't even remember what tiny detail in what obscure text took him this deep into eccentric theory hell, and now he's here, humming a particularly manic refrain of Mr. Brightside (it was only a myth, how did it end up like this? It was only a myth. _It was only a myth!_ ).

Nate sighs at himself, and then gives up and puts the song on. As Brandon Flowers's dulcet tones fill his study (read: shrine room), Nate scribbles down a quick script for himself in his favorite journal. He's done by the time the first chorus is winding down, so he stuffs the journal into his shoulder bag and gets to it while the montage music is still good. Every tacked or taped up sheet of paper comes off of Nate's walls and windows (and twice the ceiling, how did he even get them up there?) with satisfying tearing sounds.

The research is done. If he had any good sense in his head Nate would just re-propose his thesis to be… not this, but something like this, and be done with it. But if he's right - and he really thinks he is - then this history… isn't. It's still happening.

And somewhere out there in the wide expanses of space-time, some very important people are waiting in dire need  for someone like Nate to notice them.

 

**Central City, 2016**

Nate had gone to some colleagues first, and then the officials he was allowed to get to. Obviously he hadn't been believed. Honestly, Nate is just about the opposite of surprised. After all what he's proposing not only includes time travel shenanigans and superheroes, but also requires immediate risk to people and investment to go find them and their futuristic time ship.

Nate is willing to admit it sounds pretty far fetched.

But he has the evidence. He has oodles of evidence. He'd thought at least fellow historians and anthropologists would value that if nothing else. But no dice so far.

So Nate figures his only choice is to go to someone who is used to far fetched shenanigans.

Nate is now sitting in the aisle seat on a plane to Star City, the ticket for which he really didn't have the money for. Another superhero will probably (hopefully) believe Nate about other superheroes. And as far as Nate has been able to gather, at least two of the missing people have worked with Green Arrow in a hero-ing capacity before. One of them is even his personal friend, and maybe the other one is too. Surely he'll listen to what Nate has to say.

The plane ride has a layover in Central (Ohio to California is a bit of a ways, so a layover was expected, and honestly Nate is just glad that for once it's not in a city in a completely different direction, he'll never understand why they _do_ that). Nate gets off the plane when it lands, uses a blessedly normal sized bathroom stall, and stubbornly rationalizes a _venti_ soy white mocha to himself (he regrets it, like, two seconds later; he should have gone with the _grande_ , shit).

Nate meanders his way outside the airport with his stupidly overpriced coffee, feeling productive and efficient even with the minor (delicious) financial misstep, making his way easily through the sparse crowd of business travelers. Outside he breathes in a deep breath of fresh in a relative sense city air, tilting his face up to catch the warm rays of the recently risen sun.

Nate collapses on the sidewalk bench, gratefully stretching out. He balances his coffee carefully on the seat beside him (if it spills, he will actually cry) and rolls up the leg of his pants so that he can take his prosthetic off. It's a pretty state of the art piece of work - bought with his inheritance - but it still doesn't feel great in cramped quarter or for long distances, and especially not both at once, and his leg - ending at the lower thigh - is throbbing with a dull, tired pain. He digs out his percocet from his carry on and washes one down with a mouthful of coffee, and then sets to a quick massage. The relief is slow but steady coming, and soon enough Nate is comfortable enough again to put his prosthetic back on.

Nate sits up straight, leaning back in the bench, with a relieved and relaxed sigh - and then immediately panics.

What is he doing! The layover is only an hour long, he does not have time for this getting fresh air nonsense. Why did he even come out here? Disconcertingly, Nate genuinely cannot recall his thought process on this at all - not even enough to infer that he simply made the mistake on autopilot, thinking unboarding from the plane meant his travels were done. He leaps up from the bench, and of course spills his stupidly overpriced coffee, wasting six dollars and staining his pants, _heck_.

Brushing at his damp pant leg with irritation, Nate all but runs back to the door, hoping and praying that the trip he'll have to take all the way back through security will be quick enough that he won't miss his plane. He makes it all the way to the door before he suddenly halts.

He's forgetting something.

Nate turns to look back at the bench he hurriedly vacated, but it's empty, nothing underneath it either. He double checks with a pat across his chest, confirming that his bag is still slung heavily over his shoulder. He feels up all four pockets - keys, phone, wallet, check check check - and slips one finger under his collar - dog tags, check.

But… there's something here. Something that Nate needs. Or at least, Nate has the very distinct and pressing feeling that there should be.

As a kid, Nate made himself a lot of enemies, other people his age and adults both (usually teachers; he just couldn't help but correct someone when they said something inaccurate). And as someone who could conceivably die from a split lip, Nate had had to train himself into having some very good instincts. Usually they only activated in the face of danger (at which Nate does not laugh), like spidey sense, but every now and then something else can ping his radar.

So Nate waits a moment, even as the sand keeps trickling his time to get back inside away. He looks around, not knowing what for but hoping he'll figure it out when he sees it. What he ends up with is some sort of _deja vu_ feeling and an unshakable impression that this should have been a purposeful stop on Nate's superhero road trip. Which is very weird. As far as Nate knows Green Arrow is the only hero on earth, and he's never set up shop anywhere but in Star City. Who could he be thinking of now? Who could have helped him here?

" _Holy shit_ ," Nate whispers to himself as he realizes. He must be actively experiencing one of the historical anomalies he's been finding all throughout the past and near present as it takes effect. Does this mean something is happening _right now_? Here? Do the Legends still need help? Or is this from something else that already happened, or maybe even something that happens in the future? Time travel is so wild! It could easily be any of those, and Nate won't know for sure until someone in whatever time writes it down. Or… is Nate only noticing something, some kind of… _aberration_ , because he knows about them happening at all?

Nate squeezes his eyes shut tight and tries to… To what? Remember? Divine? Whatever, he tries to _know_ \- to know what history was and what history became. He'll figure out which kind of knowing is applicable later. He focuses in as tightly as he can on that sense of _deja vu_ and tries to dig into it deeper.

Nate ends up with the vague dreamlike wisps of his own memories. Reading a blog. Saved by The Flash. The rumors about a new hero in Central City, confirmed. A news broadcast. A black hole. The Flash saves the world. An article on a news site. Kid Flash saves cheerleaders, much more charming than his namesake. A viral picture on social media. Flash and Vibe, another new superhero, hugging after a battle against a giant talking gorilla.

The Flash. Kid Flash. Vibe. The heroes of Central City.

But what happened to them?

Wait a minute… Vibe is around, but he is definitely not a hero. It takes some pretty tough stuff villainy to be so well known a crime boss that people fear you even outside of your territory. But the wobbly dream version of Vibe in Nate's weird transtime memory literally rescues kittens from trees.

Time. Travel. Is. So. Wild.

Nate blinks his eyes open slowly, the solidity of the perfectly normal and almost idyllic scene around him unsettling. Birds chirp. The sun shines. Nate has to catch his plane.

Nate's spidey senses say he should go catch his plane _right now_.

As Nate disappears back into the airport in a rush, thinking better than to look over his shoulder as he goes, another man appears across the street. A man in a yellow suit. A man in a yellow suit who will not be thwarted again if he has to kill every last time travel capable person to ensure it.

A blue vibe wormhole opens with the quiet, liquidy whir of moving plasma. The man in the yellow suit gives it a beady eyed glare, knowing that though the man who wields it is currently closer to the man's own, ah… _persuasions_ than he might be, he still cannot be made an ally.

Best not to be seen by anyone except those he can easily manipulate.

Yet.

 

**Star City, 2016**

Nate doesn't know what the hell he thinks he's doing, really. Must be that his thesis work really had gone to his head (while he was still doing it, that is) and he's completely lost it. The research that has brought him here isn't even the research he was supposed to be doing. Like, at all. But it's the research he's done, and so here he is, running through the Queen building to get to the Mayor of a city he doesn't even live in after having tried to sneak around security and failing. (To be fair, he'd tried to be legit first, but not a single person would even take a message for him. So serves them right to have him running around now.)

Oliver Queen - that is, _the_ Oliver Queen, a.k.a. Green Arrow - comes out of his office just in time to see Nate get punched to the floor by one of his security officers right on the threshold. Nate is pretty proud of making it this far, but also mortified to be sprawled over the floor, unannounced, at Oliver Queen's feet, covered in crumpled up notes.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Queen asks. Nate might have expected an elected politician, business owner, and superhero to have sounded irritated at being interrupted from what must surely be important work - or at least maybe a little, you know, officious. Instead, Oliver Queen ( _the_ Green Arrow) just sounds kind of curious or… intrigued? Maybe a little hopeful? Maybe he's looking to avoid his important politician-businessman-superhero work as much as Nate's avoiding his post-grad work. Queen gives his security guys the nod and the wave (holy heck, this guy is such a big deal, stay cool Heywood, stay cool).

"Uh- I'm here to talk about Sara Lance, Ray Palmer, and uh- you know, those guys," Nate stutters out (great job staying cool, Heywood, you useless nerd). "I think they might be in trouble?"

When Queen allows him inside his office (the official office of Mayor Green Arrow!!), Nate is still (understandably!) nervous, and mostly babbles all of his evidence out all at once.

"I've exhausted all the usual avenues, you know, fellow historians, even conspiracy theorists, not that they could have been very helpful even if they believed me, and uh- well, none of them did. So then I thought, well, maybe try going closer to the- the primary source, I guess we'll call you… a member of. And you're the only one left, as far as I know, who didn't, you know, vamoose or, like, get paradoxified, so you're probably the only person left who won't think I'm crazy."

"Are you sure about that?" Queen asks, sounding deeply amused. He's lounging in his desk chair, which he has pulled over to the little table Nate already has papers upon papers spread out over. His eyes are sparkling over his golden beard and he's smirking, watching Nate pace and gesture (tripping himself up occasionally to rub at his tired thigh) like he's a particularly adorable baby animal. He's really very pretty. And muscular. And _the_ Green Arrow. No big deal. Nate's fine, he's handling it.

"I specialize in deductive historical reconstruction," Nate continues after a deep, fortifying breath (and if his voice is a little higher than usual, no one needs to know). "In layman's terms, I'm a time detective - which is, incidentally, also how I know you're the Green Arrow, not that I would really have to be much of a detective to figure that part out really - not that you're doing a bad job! You're doing a great job! You're- you're so great." Queen laughs lightly.

"You don't seem like the type of person who can be dissuaded," he says through a grin. "So I'll just say I appreciate your support. What is all this other crap?" He gestures at the table Nate has covered between them. The movement is smooth, graceful, but somehow Nate can still sense the impatience in it. Right. To the chase, then.

"For the past six months I've been noticing subtle changes to history, almost imperceptible- actually, if it wasn't for a friend of mine who's a quantum physicist, I wouldn't have been able to detect the subliminal alterations-" One of Queen's perfectly shaped blond eyebrows starts inching up. "-The point being, I think your friends are responsible. Or are they colleagues? Is the superhero thing like a job, or more like a club? What-"

"How about some evidence, motormouth?" Queen interrupts- which, fair. Definitely fair.

"Evidence, of course! I have evidence," Nate says, and dives for - you guessed it - more papers. "An illuminated manuscript from 1216 depicting what looks strikingly like Doctor Palmer as a knight." Nate hands it over, grabs another. "Erratic texts describing a woman in white with a bo staff. A hieroglyphic from Mesopotamia that shows a ship that flies through the air and disappears…"

"Alright, okay," Queen interrupts again, his lap now covered in photocopies even as Nate is digging in his shoulder bag for more, "let's skip to the part where they're in trouble."

"Right right right," Nate chatters, getting himself back on track with a directive gesture in front of himself (those ADHD feels). "UFO sighting, New York City, 1942, multiple witnesses report a flying machine diving into the Atlantic, which matches not only the hieroglyph and is also contemporaneous with reports of an underwater detonation of an atomic bomb." Nate's voice cracks on 'contemporaneous' but, being the hero that he is, Queen graciously ignores that.

"An A-bomb?" he repeats, truly grave for the first time since Nate has met him. "Kid, if they came up against an A-bomb they're not 'in trouble'. They're dead."


End file.
